The Dallas daily herald. [volume] (Dallas, Tex.) 1873-1887, 1887-06-04

to know why such notification did
not make its appearance.
He determined to make her u hand
some provision when the time came,
and all the old interest in business
having returned with his health, he be-
came n most assidous man OF bust
ness, forming stock companies, work
] ing mines, buying and selling, and ne
gotiating and trying in all this to lose
sense OF the small pain tugging away
at his big unsophisticated heart.
He Travelled about a good deal at
that time. and Mt last business brought
him to Chicago, and his arrival was
duly chronicled.
| lie knew this had been Madoline's
| home at one time, but he had heard
no word from her all this while, and
he wondered il she were still at those
blessed springs, or whether she were
well and happy, and, indeed, he won
dered all things about her, for she was
continually in his thoughts.
AS he came int the hotel one after
noon and was about to step into the
elevator, lady who had been for
sometime waiting and watching from
the reception-room, stepped forward
and laid little hand on his arm. lie
looked down, and there smiling up at
him, half afraid OF the reception she
might get, stood the wife he had left
down in Arkansas.
You know how dim it is in that lit
tie corner by the elevator, and no one
was passing down the stairs just ut
the time to see the tall man stoop
down and gather the little woman in
his arms and kiss the pretty little
mouth, and there was the deserted re-
ception.room and lie drew her in there
and together they sat down on the So
IN and looked at each other.
"You do love me yet, don't your"
she asked, her eyes full OF tears. 81
don't want any divorce. / want to
live with you always, may l?'
And she looked so pitiful and so low
able and so altogether womanly that
he was on the point OF repeating the
idicty of which he had been guilty in
the hail, when he was prevented by
the entrance OF the liveried watch
man.
"Will you come home with me?"
asked Madeline. "My carriage is at
the door" And before they reached
her fathers home on Michigan avenue
they were both in the most utter state
of content.
"There is one disease that starving
will not cure" said Denslow to his
father-in-law that evening, "and it
seems that Madeline agrees with me.
1t is q disease OF the heart called
love"
After that they had their wedding
tour and the wedding reception and
were quite "old married folks" before
he could get accustomed to the idea OF
this shy, clinging, Apri-smiles'and-
tears, little woman being the same in
dividual as that cool, decisive, tyran-
meal, sef-assertive physician who had
saved his life and hidden HIM so indit-
ferent farewell.
After he had lett she had been rest.
less and moody and missed him much,
and still she did not properly diagnose
her own case.
She and her mother went home, and
this restlessness still held possession
OF her, this nameless longing still kept
her company in Its silent, insistent
way.
"Nothing amuses me any more, she
had said to her mother. '1wish lhad
another patient to cure" and when
ever her mamma suggested the pro-
priety OF proceeding toward a divorce
mot that she wanted her to get one,
but only to see what che would an
swer), Madeline would say: "Oh,
there's time enough for that later, "
and during that time Pm afraid she
developed hitherto dormant taste
for Irritation, and there is many a
young man to-day in Chicago who
carries u httle scar on his heart from
Madoline's stabbing. And then, one
morning, IN looking over the Times,
she saw among the arrivals the name
OF her husband, and she knew by the
way the blood seemed to seek her
heart, and then leave IL Tor the
smoothness OF her cheek, and by the
trembling OF her little hands as they
held the precious newspaper, and by
the unutterable longing once more to
see the tall figure and the bearded
face OF one man greater and more
splendid in her eyes than all the rest
OF the men in the worldly all these
signs and symptoms she knew that
meant love, and that her obdurate
heart had fallen victim to disease
that all her science could not cure
Medora Clark in Chicago Current.